


Seeing Spots {~PG-13~} Sam/Dean

by GwendolynD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Community: spn_reversebang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynD/pseuds/GwendolynD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean wakes up without Sam tucked tightly into his arms, Dean isn't concerned until he discovers the window open and the line of salt completely demolished. Dean's search leads him back to the zoo that played a starring role in their last hunt and there’s something fishy about that giraffe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing Spots - Master Post

**Title:** Seeing Spots  
 **Author:** [](http://gwendolyn-d.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**gwendolyn_d**](http://gwendolyn-d.dreamwidth.org/)    
 **Genre** **:** slash, casefic  
 **Characters/Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~10,500  
 **Disclaimer:** Owned by Kripke and company.

 **A/N:** I’m lucky to have gotten such a wonderful and inspiring prompt! Thanks [](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/profile)[**amindaya**](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/) ! Thanks to my wonderful beta’s [](http://ebony-quill.livejournal.com/profile)[**ebony_quill**](http://ebony-quill.livejournal.com/) , [](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/profile)[**bree_black**](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/) and [](http://dress-myself-up.livejournal.com/profile)[**dress_myself_up**](http://dress-myself-up.livejournal.com/) ! Mwuah!

 **Summary:** When Dean wakes up without Sam tucked tightly into his arms, Dean isn't concerned until he discovers the window open and the line of salt completely demolished. Dean's search leads him back to the zoo that played a starring role in their last hunt and there’s something fishy about that giraffe.

  
 **Artist:** [](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/profile)[**amindaya**](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/)  
 **Art:** [ Always did love salads.](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/5059.html)

  
[~Art Master Post~](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/5059.html)   


  



	2. Seeing Spots - Part 1 of 3

The last time Dean had woken up without his brother pressed tightly to his chest and snug in his arms, Dean had panicked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woke without that warm and comforting (and sometimes _very_ welcoming) embrace. His eyes had snapped open and the covers thrown off as his simultaneously bolted upright. When he’d called out _‘Sammy!’_ it had been filled with dread, worry and fear.

The last time he’d been mocked was that time he had bolted up in panic, and Sam had a breakfast feast laid out on the unused bed. This feast consisted of the few donuts and coffee found in the motel’s sorry continental breakfast. Sam had been lounging there in his boxers taking a bite out of a very appetizing looking donut when Dean’s eyes rested on the bed. He’d watched as Dean’s eyes went from wide in fear, to relaxed relief, to eyeing the food, to eyeing Sam in the flash of a second.

The last time Dean had eyed Sam shortly after having panicked, Sam had all but dropped the donut as he unfolded himself free of the bed, careful to avoid spilling any plates of food. He had stepped over to the other bed and shoved his knee between Dean’s thighs so he could kneel on the bed. Dean had been shoved backwards onto the bed and his lips bruised with the intensity of the following kiss. It hadn’t been long before the heat took over and had them sweating together, gasping for air despite the frigid January air outside.

That’s why this time, when he woke without Sam tucked snugly against his chest, Dean didn’t bolt up. He didn’t panic, he didn’t worry. He scratched his stomach lazily with one hand and reached the other high above him as he arched his back in a stretch. An expectant smile played upon his lips as he raised his other hand to join the one above his head and laid himself out for Sam’s view. “Wanna eat before breakfast, Sammy?” Dean smirked.

Dean laid, nonchalant, as he waited for the typical answer, a pillow _whapped_ in his face, or more commonly, a body slowly pressed down on top of his, pinning him down before they wasted another couple of hours in bed. When he didn’t receive a response, Dean’s green eyes blinked open as he rolled his head to the side. The second bed was undisturbed, which wasn’t a surprise but Dean was still relieved because the last time both beds had been disturbed had been when Sam didn’t talk to him for a week. It hadn’t been Dean’s fault, of course, if Sam couldn’t take a little prank. It had served his point though. Dean didn’t mess with Sam’s laptop again.

The last time Dean had woken to an empty, undisturbed second bed _and_ with no Sam in the room, Dean had sleepily sulked into the bathroom only to discover the shower running and a very familiar form outlined through the curtain. Dean had perked right up—in a number of ways—stripped down, and slid in front of Sam. He needed to make sure that Sam indeed was sweaty and messy enough to warrant a shower, not to mention inspect to ensure no deadly bubbles hid from being rinsed away. It had been for Sam’s benefit, obviously (guy’s skin is just too sensitive!), and it was only a bonus that Dean had also gotten an extra hand in making sure all his own hard to reach places were taken care of.

So this time--with nothing in recent memory that he did to piss his brother off, and an undisturbed bed-- Dean rolled out of bed. Yawning loudly as he glanced at the clock, he noted that it was just before eight, and then he shuffled for the bathroom. Pushing open the unlatched door, he smiled at the sound of water running. When he stepped into the bathroom and his footfall made a _splash_ , his lazy and sleepy attitude disappeared and he snapped to attention. “Sammy?!”

Two long steps had him at the shower and yanking the curtain back with the urgency of his heart hammering. The cold water misted his face as the plastic containing the spray to the tub was moved. Dean’s eyes widened as they laid on the edge of the tub that was glistening with the slow flow of water over the edge like an elegant waterfall. In a second’s time from discovering the empty shower, Dean switched from worry, to confusion, to panic. “Sammy!” he called out again, desperation making his voice rough as he dropped instantly to his knees and his arms plunged into the tub up to their elbows. The water wasn’t clear. It was a murky black. Eyes wide, Dean’s hands frantically searched the tub, looking for something to grab onto—anything. Demon, the tub’s plug or his brother; it didn’t matter what, but he needed answers.

When his hands glided along the bottom of the tub end to end, and he hadn’t been grabbed by anything in hiding, the tub began to drain when he popped the plug. Slouched back on his haunches and staring at the tub again, he sighed before he stood. He made a full turn inside the room, eyes darting over every feature and every dirt mark in the tiny motel bathroom. Nothing stopped his attention long enough to be of concern. Towels were still maid-folded, their toothbrushes were still in the same haphazardly tossed location they had been when they had gone to bed and the pile of clothes Sam usually left stacked neatly on the toilet cover while he showered was still there.

Dean turned quickly, something grabbing his attention as he looked straight at the window. It was open. Two paces got him to the frame and his hand lifted quickly to run his fingers along the edge of the sill. The line of salt Dean had ritually triple checked last night was barely even noticeable. As the green of Dean’s eyes darkened and his brows furrowed, Dean gripped onto the window frame and leaned hastily out the window. The grass around the window was flattened and the salt from the frame was scattered beow. ”Sonovabitch...”

Dean practically ran out of the bathroom to toss his clothes on and grab his weapon bag from under the bed before sloshing back through the water and hoisting himself out the window to follow the trail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

With a groan, Sam stumbled against a conveniently nearby tree, his arms wrapped around his stomach attempting to curb the pain pushing at his stomach, his knees sinking to the ground with the burn that tore through his muscles as he dipped his chin to his chest. His eyes squeezed shut and his nose and mouth twitched in pain as he unwrapped an arm from his body and pressed his palm to his forehead. The world tilted and tossed him around, images blurring, duplicating and spinning anytime he opened his eyes in attempts to get a bearing as to where he was going. He had lost count how many times he had fallen, and he seemed to be losing control of the ability to tell whether he was standing, let alone moving.

 

He knew where he wanted to go; knew that he needed to get back to Dean. He knew that he’d been in the motel shower when the pain in his neck forced him out and to grab his robe. Sam knew that he’d left the water running because before he could turn it off, his chest exploded in pain and he stumbled from the bathroom with the intent to rouse Dean for help. Before he could call to Dean he staggered backwards back to the bathroom and against the sink, clutching the edges with a white knuckled grasp. When he tried looking in the mirror, he knew he wasn’t seeing properly when he saw swirls along the walls and four Sams looking back at him. He knew that the water pouring from the showerhead shouldn’t be black or smell like dirt and he definitely knew that his neck should not look spotted or like it had grown three inches.

 

Dean’s voice had echoed in his head, disjointed but firm. _Sammy, outside, through the window, now!_ Sam was sure it wasn’t actually in his head; was sure that he could hear a fight breaking out in the other room. He had staggered to the window, knowing that he was in no condition to back Dean up—and would likely get them both killed if he tried. So Sam had pulled himself away from trying to mentally press the four swimming Sams in his reflection back together, and towards the open window. Dizzy, he’d managed to lift one leg up to fit through the window. But just as he tried ducking his head through, a burning spasm tore through his chest and through his arms and legs that made him try to double over. In result, he’d gracelessly fallen out the window onto the uncut grass that laid below.

 

He’d meant to just move to a tree to sit beside it, to scoot along the ground to a stable spot, but somehow he’d lost his way and now had no idea whether the motel was even in sight. He had found a tree, but even as he leaned against it now, it was all he could do to keep from yelling at the world for the agony that vibrated in his nerves, pulling at his muscles. His head felt off balance and his arms and legs felt weird and wobbly, but he was sure it had to be a hallucination. There was no way that his arms now seemed to reach the next tree without effort—a tree that had to be at least five feet away.

 

Sam startled and fell backwards onto his ass when his head suddenly hit a tree branch without him standing or moving. Licking his lips, Sam blinked and was surprised to find that the world seemed to be in better focus, though he was thirsty as hell. Giving his head a tiny shake, he went to push himself to his feet, and that’s when he realized that he was looking at the leaves of the trees. “What...?” Given that he still felt disoriented and his limbs still throbbed with the agony pulsing through him, Sam was willing to over look the fact that his single word seemed to have come out a warbled grunt of sorts.

 

What he couldn’t overlook, was the fact that when he tried to move his arms and legs, they felt like they were bending the completely wrong directions. In fact, he couldn’t seem to stand at all. Twisting his head around to look behind him seemed to take longer than usual too, and the same warbled grunt as before came out of his mouth when what he’d meant to say was something far more colourful.

 

Behind him was a large, brown spotted lump and what seemed to be legs attached to it. When Sam tried to move again to turn and look at this mound, it snapped together in his brain that when he moved his legs, this _thing_ did too. The pain had subsided, leaving only a sense of being far taller than he usually felt. When he took a minute to look down at his chest, it only confirmed his horrible (and totally outrageous) feeling of what had somehow happened. The ground seemed miles away from him and tucked under him were similarly spotted legs.

 

Somehow, Sam had turned into a giraffe.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean anxiously fiddled with a pencil as he flipped through one of the many books lying beside the computer he’d claimed at the local library. His eyes were focused on the text whenever they weren’t scanning the computer screen frantically, and the small notebook he carried everywhere with him contained mostly scribbles and doodles. He hadn’t worked on a hunt by himself in a long time, and if that wasn’t bad enough, this time it was his _brother’s_ life on the line. Having to save him was totally different than backing each other up. His survey of the area around the motel had turned up nothing but a small piece of ripped cloth. It may be nothing, but since the khaki coloured fabric with a blue emblem and a familiar black ‘OO’ embroidered on it was all Dean had, it was his strongest lead, and it took him back to their last hunt at the zoo.

 

It took a frustrating six hours to go over everything from the hunt they’d just finished, to make sure that they hadn’t missed anything. It had been a strange case, a demon had been host-hopping, changing its meat-suit every few hours. And because that had been, of course, terribly easy to begin with, she had been using animals as her host. Trying to convince the zoo manager to let them anywhere near the lions had needed a quick flick of a generic badge (used for obscure cases where they never knew who they might need to be) and some intense flirting with the zookeeper. Sam took point and had gone in because getting close to a lion possessed by a demon and long exorcism rituals didn’t mix well and Sam didn’t need the journal to rattle off a perfect incantation. He’d done it in record time, and they had split from the zoo to head back to the motel for one night’s rest before moving on.

 

That one night’s rest now seemed seemed to have extended into at least another day with a side of another hunt. Now the hours of research had led Dean full circle and back to Andreya Barston (the regular at the zoo with the fixation on possessing animals) and to her sister, Naella. Andreya had been their focus and the final exorcism, but somehow both Sam and Dean had missed the fact that the sisters were _very_ close. So close that perhaps both of them had been in together on whatever plan they’d had. Naella had been spotted at Andreya’s usual feeding spots, taking over the position that had recently become available thanks to Sam and Dean.

 

Dean was the last person to stroll through the zoo gates before they closed by the time he made his way back to the zoo but making a bee-line for the lion habitat. It didn’t take long to spot the short, plump frame of the red haired woman clasping to the railing tightly. He kept a distance, casually looking at the nearby map of the park with one hand shoved in his pocket while keeping Naella in sight. Dean wasn’t sure whether she was showing her true self for a moment, or whether the shadows were playing with the color of her eyes; either way, the black beads of eyes flipped to blue with a blink, and she was straightening up and striding away.

 

Staying behind her, Dean watched as she crossed the path to the giraffe exhibit, staring at the six animals with intensity that had them promptly choosing to move to another area to graze. They then either stood around, or some knocked their heads against another’s hind legs. Raising an eyebrow and lazily licking at his lips, he noted that the tallest giraffe seemed bored by the way it was shaking its head frequently while shuffling around in the sand, almost in a circle it seemed.

 

Fingers thrumming against his side from inside his pocket, Dean followed Naella as she strolled away from the giraffes. Following her for a half hour until being shoo’d out, he watched her stare with the same intensity at the monkey’s, the snakes and the parrots before she left the park.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The last twenty four hours had been hell. Sam had become a clumsy teen all over again, readjusting to his new body and extended limbs. It had taken him about ten minutes to figure out how to stand up, and another ten to realize that being a giraffe on the outskirts of a small city wasn’t very easy to disguise. Whether he stood behind a tree or a building, somewhere, a giraffe part stuck out. He’d discovered that despite becoming an animal, it didn’t mean that everything came naturally. In fact, only three things did. First, his tail had a mind if its own. He’d discovered this when he had thought it felt like a bug was biting his back, and he suddenly felt something tugging at his tailbone and then a swat of coarse fur hitting his back (much to his surprise). Secondly, his neck didn’t have the versatility or stealth he was used to. ‘Glancing’ behind him took almost half a minute by the time his long neck twisted and arched to practically rest on his shoulder to look behind him. Thirdly, nothing around him seemed to make sense until he let his tongue slide out and taste it. Once he had that taste, clarity simply seemed to settle in. So Sam found himself licking almost everything in a way to map out the environment in his mind’s eye.

 

Figuring out how to move had taken up a good portion of the first half hour of his staggering around attempting to stay hidden (and attempting to find the motel and Dean). Despite his extreme giantness, Sam thought he did a fairly decent job at it. With all the hunting he and Dean had done, they’d learned to assess the situation—to determine whether they were safe to fight where they were or if they had to take the fight elsewhere with more cover. Therefore, Sam had been fairly confident that he’d remained pretty well hidden, aside from the occasional flick of his tail. When a large truck rumbled nearby, and stopped just around the gas station from where Sam had been attempting to find some water to drink, Sam tucked his head quickly down against his body and wished his tail to remain still; confident the truck would move on in a few minutes.

 

Jumbled voices rang out, and even though Sam had trouble deciphering what they were yelling, he had no problem determining that it was official. The voices were quick, demanding and in charge. When one lady had turned the corner and laid eyes on Sam, she’d let out a whistle. Before Sam could really figure out what was going on through the blurred movements (he’d learned his eyes couldn’t track quick movements clearly—just that they were there and the direction they moved), he found himself ushered onto a truck, and forced to lay down on the floor with his head sticking out the top. Somewhere in the jumble he’d been able to bite at someone’s arm and rip the logo off and toss it to the ground before the truck pulled away. Maybe, just maybe Dean would see it.

 

Now, Sam stood at the edge of an enclosure after an hour of very uncomfortable poking and prodding by people in masks, gloves and hats. Part of him recognized that it was a medical check since he was out _‘in the wild’_ , but the larger, more curious part of him won over and his gigantic giraffe tongue slipped out and pulled one man’s paper thin fabric hat off and pulled it back to his mouth. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt fully satisfying to chew on the item, and no one seemed to care because they had all just laughed and the man had gotten a new hat. Chewing it had made the prodding more bearable, but Sam was fully thankful to be outside now with three other giraffes casually wandering around the area, even if they were tossing him curious looks.

 

The zoo. He was still getting used to the idea of such simplicity. It had thrown Sam for a loop. He’d assumed that it was demons, or something evil getting their jolly on. Either way, it still had frustrated him that he’d been unable to fight other than uselessly tossing his head side to side. Was that the only defence that giraffes had? Because it sucked ass for survival skills.

 

Racing to think of a way to get out, to get free, to alert Dean, he began to pace the corner that he’d claimed. Shaking his neck and head to rid himself of the bugs he could feel settling along his hair (or, his mane Sam supposed it should be) he caught a look at the ground that made him pause. He was standing on sand. Most of the enclosure was grass, but he was by the water hole and it had an expanse of sand around it. Working to twist his head in a way to be able to look at his feet for more than a second, he scuffed his front feet forward by trying to move his hands. Two distinct lines trailed behind his shuffles, and Sam cried out with happiness. When the giraffe vocal box translated it, it came out louder than anticipated, and also like a cry of pain from a dying moose. The other giraffes stopped simultaneously to stare at Sam, along with every small form of a person wandering around the fence and trees. Glancing back and forth, Sam casually walked toward the tree that suddenly looked really inviting, hoping to lose the attention.

 

Before he realized what he was doing, Sam’s tongue lapped out at the twigs and wrapped around the closest twig with leaves and Sam mentally winced as it pulled back into his mouth, stripping the leaves. He’d anticipated having a mouthful of slivers, but then it dawned on him that of course he wouldn’t. He wasn’t _Sam_ , he was a giraffe. Humans weren’t made to lick twigs, but giraffes were. Once he realized that, he realized that the leaves tasted rather delicious and almost silky on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but spend the next hour, at least, lapping at the tree, losing himself in pleasure as he reached out with his tongue to strip the branches of their delicious gourmet leaves. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry.

 

Once the growling in his stomach (that was really just a mental knowledge that he needed to eat as opposed to feeling hungry) subsided, movement caught Sam’s eye and he twisted his head lower to look at the spot where he saw it. Something was waving at him. _A hand?_ Shifting a few steps over, Sam lowered his head a bit more and noticed that it was a man’s hand pressed through the fence. Hope pounded at his chest that the face attached would be Dean’s, but the face he found was wrinkled with a near white, full beard and an old golfer’s hat perched on the top of his head. The man seemed to be around sixty, at least, and he seemed very much in awe that Sam was looking at him. Sam didn’t have time to think about this, and he suddenly focused on the hand again. The man’s fingers had uncurled to reveal some pellets; disgusting, yellow pellets that Sam found his tongue reaching out and swiping up quickly much to his disturbance. He was pretty sure that man said something that would explain why the hand suddenly disappeared, but Sam was stretched back to full height and chewing on the food messily.

 

With a deep breath, Sam cleared his head and turned away from the trees and the new line of waving hands peeking through the fence and strolled back to the sand, staring at the two parallel lines he’d made before. _Focus..._

 

An hour later, Sam let out a groan that sounded nothing like a groan, and focused on bending his arms and legs in the direction he needed to get his stomach to rest on the ground. His eyes felt heavy, and he was tired. He settled carefully in the middle of his artwork, and waited.


	3. Seeing Spots - Part 2 of 3

  


 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

With a confident bounce in his stride, Dean rounded the corner of the lions den and cut a direct path to the nearest zookeeper. He knew the suit and tie drew attention to him, but Dean needed to look official. The man pushing a broom around the edge of the pathways glanced up, then paused as Dean drew closer. “Excuse me, I’m Agent Berard. I’m an Animal Environment Specialist,” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his free-for-all badge and flipped it open long enough for the man’s eyes to rest on it for a second before he snapped it closed and smoothly placed it back in his pocket.

 

Propping his hands on the top of the push broom after wiping at his forehead, the male tilted his head slightly as he looked at Dean. “I’m Jacob. What can I do for you Mr. Berard?”

 

“I see your giraffe is acting strange.” It was the only lead-in Dean could come up with, and from talking to other zookeepers last week—animals acting strange seemed to be common around here. Jacob turned to look into the enclosure, nodding his head slightly. Dean let a look of surprised bewilderment cross his face behind the keeper’s back before stepping alongside to look into the area. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he glanced at each animal in turn. “What’s the story?”

 

Jacob gave a quick sideways glance at Dean before leaning heavily on his broom, one arm lazily resting on it so he could point to one of the largest giraffes that was standing in the sand. Dean thought it was the same one he’d seen standing in the sand before, but all of them were tall and spotted and pretty indistinguishable. “That one was brought in a few days ago. He—“

 

“Wait,” Dean tossed a questioning look at Jacob, “Just brought in?” Dean frowned . He’d never thought about it, but it didn’t seem like it would be a common practice to bring in an animal in and see no new signs or fuss over the new addition to the exhibit. “Do animals frequently get brought in?”

 

“Not usually, no. And...well...” Jacob glanced behind him, then side to side before leaning towards Dean slightly. “Technically he’s not new...escaped an hour before he was caught again.”

 

“Jacob , do animals escape often?” When Dean got a hesitation as a response, he nodded and reached into his jacket for his notebook and pen. “Where was the giraffe found?” he asked as he scrawled Jacob’s name down.

 

“A few miles from here, on the edge of town, I heard. Somewhere near Harlton and Tavel road, out by that rundown motel.”

 

Dean’s pen stilled on the paper and he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second—long enough to make Jacob turn to look at him. Giving a minute shake of his head to clear his thought, Dean swallowed and forced his voice to be steady when he asked the time of day it was caught. That answer didn’t make Dean’s concerns any less. Just before Dean had woken--just before Dean had discovered Sam was missing. He _had_ to be on the right track. “Alright, and just one more question Jacob; have any of the animals been acting out of sorts since then?”

 

Straightening up and giving his broom a tap before adjusting his hat, Jacob shrugged. “Just the one we caught. Stress from being out in a strange environment, y’know? Hasn’t left that patch of sand for at least a day. Occasionally he’ll move, but he only goes one or two steps in either direction but that seems to be his new preferred spot.” Apparently taking Dean’s word on it being the last question, the zookeeper began brushing up the pathway and headed off.

 

Grasping his notebook in one hand, and shoving his other hand into his pocket, Dean strolled a few steps, watching the ‘stressed out’ giraffe. Perhaps it was the sun playing tricks, but he was pretty sure the giraffe was watching him too. Then he caught a glimpse of the sand and how it was ruffled too neatly to be random. Flicking the notebook open and clicking his pen on, Dean set to drawing what he could see. When the pattern jumped out at him, he stared at it. Dean glared at the giraffe, second guessing the ‘sun playing tricks’ thought. “Sonovabitch.”

 

Swapping notebook for phone, Dean was stalking away towards the exit and was halfway there by the time someone answered. “We have another one Bobby. Miss Nut-ella must’ve been in on the circus too. I don’t know what’s going on, but Sam must have gotten a lead he didn’t have time to share, because there’s a devil’s trap with a giraffe itching to get out.” Sliding smoothly into the impala, Dean roared the engine to life as he listened to Bobby before responding. “Of course I checked, nothing in the motel, nothing in the car. I’m going back tonight after closing. The Friendly Giant’s gotta have Sam somewhere.” The cell phone snapped shut angrily before flying onto the passenger seat as Dean tore out of the parking lot.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had worked. Sam wasn’t sure how long it had taken Dean, but there was the face of his brother, focused and intense as he scaled the fence. Dean froze when a guard turned to swing her flashlight over the surrounding area, sure that she heard a noise. Time had lost its meaning other than day and night since Sam realized that despite how tired he would be, he would only sleep for about ten minutes at a time. He’d fallen asleep when the zookeeper was feeding the den of lions across the walkway (and whose idea was it to put the predator and prey habitats so close together?), and when he’d woken up, the same zookeeper was still there, just finishing up. From the previous day’s feeding, Sam knew that he only spent a few minutes in proximity with them, clearly terrified the lions would eat him.

 

Now it was dark and Dean was sitting in the tree staring at him. Sam was pretty sure that they locked eyes. He was thirsty as hell, hungry, and itching to scratch his neck but none of that mattered. Now he had to clue his, occasionally very dense, brother into the fact that Sam was the giraffe.

 

Standing in the Devil’s Trap (it wasn’t perfect, nor was it undisturbed, but Dean wasn’t close enough to realize that) and staring at Dean, Sam almost wanted to squirm under the intensity of Dean’s stare that was focused on him. He watched as Dean reached into his leather jacket and pulled out the tattered old journal that had become their life-saver. Words fell from Dean’s lips that Sam couldn’t understand, but he’d learned that he couldn’t understand any human’s voice anymore and had withdrawn into the knowledge that he’d never understand anything again. Not unless Dean found and could figure out how to fix him. It would be alright though, Dean would try to exorcise Sam, it wouldn’t work, and Dean would figure it out. He _had_ to.

 

Dean began chanting, and something twisted inside him, but he realized it was just the intensity and anger in Dean’s eyes that was making Sam uncomfortable. He’d never been on the receiving end of such hatred and anger within Dean. An exorcism wouldn’t work on Sam, he wasn’t a demon. Tossing his head to the side as he stumbled out of the Devil’s Trap, and instantly Dean’s chanting stopped, and when Sam looked at him, he saw Dean’s dark, anger filled eyes had been replaced by shock.

 

If he didn’t move now, he wouldn’t be able to because Dean would regain his composure in seconds, and Sam needed those seconds. Two giant strides had Sam at his brother’s side, eye to eye with him from where Dean was perched in the tree. One of his hands was clutched to the branch for stability, and the book had fallen from his hands. Sam blinked, watching Dean with a fascination he didn’t think was appropriate for the situation, but how often is it that you literally get to look at your lover again for the first time, through new eyes? He was slightly blurred around the edges, but it actually made Dean look a little angelic, which was ironic due to the darkness that had been radiating from him when he was chanting.

 

A moment of what Sam had come to coin as giraffe ADD, hit him when he went to attempt to force his giraffe self to _talk_ to Dean and instead his long dark tongue snaked out and wrapped around a branch near Dean’s head and pulled the leaves into his mouth. Sam wanted to be angry with himself for being distracted again, but the leaves were crunchy, and with their usual silky feel on his tongue... he just couldn’t do it. He did catch Dean’s wary glance though, and the uncertainty on his face was enough to make Sam forget he was a giraffe for a second, until he found his tongue snaking out again and swiping along the side of Dean’s neck and up his cheek.

 

Unsurprisingly, Dean shifted away quickly, turning to square his body towards the giraffe. “So you’re not a demon...or not one that can be trapped anyway,” he mumbled, and Sam nodded in encouragement before he realized that he _understood_ Dean. Everyone else had been mumbled, or just a random noise but here as his brother....here was _Dean_ and Sam could understand him. Something released inside Sam’s chest that he hadn’t realized had been slowly tightening with the fear that he was losing his humanity to a giraffe.

 

If Sam could understand Dean when he couldn’t understand anyone else...did that mean that Dean could understand him? _“Dean, it’s me! I’m Sam!”_

 

From the wince on Dean’s face and the way he cringed away, Sam’s enthusiasm came through nice and loud, but the words didn’t spark any recognition. Sam the giraffe, still sounded like a giraffe. Even though Sam’s head fell in disappointment, he still caught Dean’s quick glance to his duffel bag that was slung on a branch a few feet away. Panic mixed with adrenaline hit him with the realization that Dean’s eyes had grown dark again. Sam knew that whatever Dean was about to lunge for, wasn’t anything that would have Sam dancing in rainbows.

 

In desperation, Sam lurched his head forward and bit at Dean’s shirt, trying to keep him away from the bag without hurting him, just as Dean lunged for the duffel. Sam’s ears twitched as he heard a snap that was simultaneous with the sound of fabric tearing, and Dean was staring at him again. The button-down shirt covering Dean’s tee was missing a chunk of fabric, and something was caught in between his teeth, swinging. The amulet.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean had needed to grab onto the nearest branch to prevent the eight foot fall to the ground when the giraffe had sprung at him and tried to tear his arm off. At least that’s what Dean would say if asked how the hunt had gone. Once steadied, realization quickly hit him that he was intact, and a hand flying to his chest confirmed the meaning of the cold that had settled into his bones. His amulet was gone. Instead of lying right next to his heart, where the gift from his brother belonged, the precious item was swaying from the giraffe’s teeth.

 

Now Dean was cursing as he grasped the branch with one hand, and used his free hand swiped at the necklace in a desperate attempt to grab it back, but the giraffe lifted its head just enough that it swayed out of Dean’s reach. Determined, Dean carefully brought himself to a crouch. Eyes narrowing with a hint of darkness creeping in at the edges, he shoved off, throwing himself at the giraffes head. He reached out in an attempt to grasp the necklace before thudding into the animal’s neck. Dean scrambled to hold on by grabbing at the giraffe’s short, coarse mane.

 

While the giraffe seemed undisturbed by Dean clawing at its fur, gravity itself was against him, and he slid sideways off the large animal and landed on his back with a loud huff. With a groan, Dean raised himself up on one elbow as he lifted his head. Before he could move any more, the giraffe leaned down with its front legs spread in an awkward stance and its large nose nudged Dean’s temple. Dean pushed to his knees to get to his feet, but the giraffe nudging him made it difficult to stand.

 

Something slipped past his vision and thunked against his chest, and Dean froze. He blinked a few times before looking down at the amulet that was now resting against his chest where it belonged. Dean frowned as he looked at the giraffe. The giraffe had now settled into a laying position, watching Dean intently. Dean looked at the giraffe, then to the amulet, and back to the giraffe.

 

When the giraffe leaned its head forward and nudged at Dean’s arm until he moved it to the side a little bit, the giraffe’s black, coarse tongue lolled out and swiped at his inner elbow before it buried its nose in the crook. All Dean could do was stare as the animal nuzzled his inner arm. It was the spot that Sam always rubbed when Dean got too stressed out and it would relax him almost instantly. The pressure point was something only Sam knew about. And now, a giraffe that was taller than the others and had just given Dean his amulet back was nosing into Dean’s arm in a way that could only be called affectionate. _Holy fuck._

 

“Sammy?!”

 

\----

 

A half hour later, Dean had very little reason to believe that the giraffe wasn’t his brother. He’d asked as many yes and no questions he could think of that only Sam would know the answers to and poured holy water into his mouth. Not to mention about a dozen other obscure things he’d only ever heard myths of being a _possibility_ to confirm possession.

 

Basically, it seemed Sam knew about as much as Dean did in regards to what was going on. Less even, because Sam hadn’t known about Naella making her suspicious rounds at the zoo. He did confirm, however, that the patch of fabric he’d found in the forest had indeed been from Sam, trying to leave a clue for him. Now he was pacing the motel room with Bobby on the line—after spending near half hour proclaiming his sobriety and sanity.

 

“Look, whether you believe me or not, humour me and give me _something_ to try to get Sam back. I have no clue how to turn this Jumanji mojo off.” Snapping his phone shut, Dean tousled his hair, one hand propped on his waist as his eyes darted around the room. Taking three paces towards the bathroom, and then three more back towards the television, Dean cursed and grabbed his flashlight before beginning to scour the entire room for signs of witchcraft or hex bags.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam eyed his enemy. They’d been in combat for ten minutes, and Sam couldn’t seem to get the upper hand...hoof. Circling once again, Sam tried kneeling on his front legs. Before he’d reached very far, he lost his balance and toppled sideways onto the sand. Tossing his head around until he stood up, he threw the dirtiest look he could muster at the water. With a giraffe huff, he walked over to the trees and chomped on them, thankful he could still convince something into his mouth—he wasn’t totally losing his touch. Movement beside him caught his eye, and his chewing slowed as he turned to look at what it was. One of the other giraffe’s had finally dared come close.

 

Watching this other giraffe, Sam forgot about the leaves as he realized the giraffe was heading to the water (that couldn’t be drunk). In fascination, Sam watched as the giraffe stood at the water’s edge, and carefully spread his front legs at an uncomfortable looking angle and was able to reach his head down to lap at the water. Excited to copy this stance, Sam sprang over towards the water, and quickly learned that a giraffe kicks with its back feet for defense. Sam, nothing; watering hole, thirty-two.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Of course I’m not shitting you Bobby! I don’t think an appropriate joke would be ‘guess what? The bag won’t burn. You don’t mind having a giraffe hunter travel with us do you?’ ” Dean trudged back and forth across the parking lot, staring at the pale bag resting in his hand. He’d taken it apart and tied it back together in hopes that just _maybe_ that might help it burn. Of course not. The flames licked the fabric, and flowed around it as if the thing was made out of grease.

 

“Yeah, it’s got a silver coin sewn into the cloth. So?” Dean’s face scrunched up, neglecting to see why this was of any importance to Sam. Nothing was important unless it involved turning a giraffe back to a human giant. “It’s called a what-now? ... Genitor ex vestigium... And what _exactly_ does that mean?”

 

Turning the bag over in his hands again, Dean listened to the Bobby’s explanation. Abruptly, Dean barked out a laugh that filled the still, night air before he coughed into his hand and forced a serious tone into his voice, despite the half-smirk he donned. “Right... How am I supposed to get a giraffe out of the zoo without suspicion? Not to mention convincing Naella to hand over her blood so we can actually burn the bag?”

 

The phone clicked off after a sharp reply from Bobby, and Dean blinked, looking at his before rolling his eyes and sliding into the Impala to gun her to life.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Seeing Spots - Part 3 of 3

 

  


  


It was another day and a half before Sam saw Dean again, and it became harder and harder to remember that he was supposed to be waiting for Dean at all. Once he’d conquered the watering hole and was able to stroll up and take a drink whenever he wanted, he found that the other giraffes were getting closer to him while they wandered. Some even dared to graze from the same tree as him now. He knew it was absurd, but this acceptance made him jittery with happiness—like a child getting invited to their first birthday party.

 

Sam felt he had the confidence to join other giraffes while it grazed without fear of getting another powerful kick to the side. The success of socialization without being beaten was what made Sam offended and terribly confused when one came up to him, and swung his head sideways to ram Sam almost right on his tail. He had taken it to mean that he was standing in the other giraffe’s spot, so he’d flopped his tongue out in an attempt to flip the bully off before moving on to gorge himself on the treats literally being handed to him from these tiny people on the other side of the fence. There was something almost addicting about the taste of leaves in a crunchy pellet form mixed in with the salty taste of skin.

 

Dean showed up that night, climbing over the fence while Sam rested in the cool grass. The motion of someone walking towards him caught his attention, and he _saw_ Dean, but he couldn’t think of a reason as to why this _person_ would be on the inside of the fence, let alone approaching him. There was a bag slung over Dean’s shoulder, and Sam perked, hoping it was a bag of food. He leaned forward with his head, sniffing out the bag, nudging it and ignoring the person who seemed to be mumbling.

 

When the bag dropped to the grass and the person began waving his arms in front of his face, Sam blinked and tried to pay more attention. The haze on his mind lifted enough to understand the words Dean was saying while mimicking driving, then pointing to the fence that led to the edge of the enclosure that was at the edge of the parks property. Sam shook his head wildly, straining to focus his mind. _It’s **Dean**. Listen. **Listen!**_

 

“Great...I’m playing charades with a giraffe...” Dean mumbled, walking in a full circle idly as he ran mussed his hair before crouching and dragging his finger through the sand. Sam found himself questioning what charades was, and quickly becoming frustrated because he knew it was something he should understand.

 

Just as it clicked back into his memory, Dean hoisted the bag back onto his shoulder and headed to the far fence, apparently convinced that Sam understood finally. Or perhaps he had just given up. Shuffling his front hoof at the ground, Sam focused on the remnants of the rough sketches Dean had just made in the sand. There was a fence, and a clock with a number drawn beside it. The pictures were meant to keep Sam’s mind on the task, and he knew that, but the longer he stared at the drawings, the more they stopped making sense.

 

Ten minutes later Sam had forgotten the details of Dean’s visit an barely remember anyone even being there. So when a loud click echoed off the tall fence in the far corner, Sam was curious. He made his way over, and when a portion of the fence fell away with a loud clatter, he reared up on his hind feet before quickly shuffling backwards. His heart was hammering in his chest and his ears rang with the clang of the metal being torn to the ground.

 

When he hastily stepped forward to investigate this new doorway, all the other giraffes were beside him, all showing the same sleepy curiosity that he felt. Lowering his head a little bit to look at the torn fence, movement caught his eye. He turned his head to the right he saw a man standing beside a two-tonne tow truck, waving his arms and gesturing urgently. Sam wondered if perhaps he was yelling because the fence had just fallen on the back of his truck, but if Sam focused hard, he could imagine the person yelling _’C’mon Sammy!’_

 

Something struck him about how this man was waving, and a slow realization seeped into his mind that he knew this person. Had talked to him. As the person yelled something about a witch, it sunk in. This was Dean. _His_ Dean. Stepping though the gate, Dean all but got behind him to push until Sam was at a good distance from the fence. Sam found himself both amused at the sight of Dean waving a giant branch at the other giraffes to keep them from leaving through the gate, and irritated. _Leave them alone!_

 

When the man... _his brother_ (he had to remind himself) seemed satisfied with where the giraffes now stood, Dean scrambled back to the cab of the tow truck and backed it up. Sam watched in fascination as the fallen fence slowly righted itself, and remained in place as the truck turned off, parking with the fence back in position.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

If someone asked Dean how he had got to be bouncing in a makeshift set of ropes that were looped around a giraffes neck while attempting to steer it...he couldn’t tell you. It had gotten intense after he had parked the tow-truck back against the fence—security and police officers had been yelling, and from the number of shouted orders that carried through to where Dean climbed out of the truck, there had been a full on crowd on the other side.

 

Dean’s drug of choice had kicked in then, the adrenaline pushing him into motion so that within the minute he had managed to get Sam close enough to the tree he perched in and toss his crudely made rope-seat over Sam’s large, giraffe head. Dean’s sense of urgency grew when he realized that Sam hadn’t seemed to notice him. That even once Sam had licked Dean in the process of grabbing leaves, that it had definitely taken some effort for Sam to realize Dean wasn’t a tree. Sam was losing himself to the giraffe. Muttering a quick apology to his brother, he tossed himself at the tall neck and slid down until he caught onto the first rope. Clinging to that rope, he’d maneuvered himself under the second and third ropes –each a bit longer in length—so that he had one rope under him, one behind him, and one to hold onto for dear life.

 

Even though Sam was no Impala, Dean was still a hunter who could spot the creepy things in the dark when they wanted to remain unseen. A slap on the left and a swat on the right roughly guided Sam around the parking lot in the distance that had been full of skulking shadows while still attempting to follow the trees he had marked with dark spray paint earlier after scouting out the house. Those trees were the only thing keeping them on the right path to the witch’s house in the far part of the woods. After a few minutes of riding, Dean suddenly realized that he hadn’t needed to steer Sam to follow the last couple of trees they’d passed—and also he took note that the distant shadows searching for them had disappeared. They’d reached a safe distance, so he yanked on his grip rope. “Sammy, wait.”

 

Sam slowed and eventually came to a stop after a few yards. His head twisted around to look at Dean, and Dean looked steadily into the eyes of the giraffe searching for that familiar light that indicated his brother was in there--that light that had been mostly gone when Dean broke Sam out. Dean had worried it had been too late, that somehow Sam was trapped as a giraffe because the light that made the giraffe _Sam_ had been so faint and Sam hadn’t seemed to recognize Dean at all. Now, that spark had returned and he wasn’t sure how, but he was happy to see Sam gesture his head in the direction they had been heading in a _let’s go_ kind of way.

 

The rest of the ride had been bumpy as ever, if not more so because Sam seemed to be pushing his giraffe-ly limits and straining to go as fast as he could. Dean did his best to shout the plan to his brother, to explain to him how the hex bag wouldn’t burn on its own, and how it was a different type of hex than they’d seen before. He explained that they would need to use a silver blade to get the blood of the witch who had cast the spell in order to burn the bag.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam bounded into the clearing, slowing to a stop just outside the front of a small house that had a run down, abandoned look to it. He could feel Dean squirming around on his back, and the ropes tugging against his neck as Dean moved around. Sam swung his head to be able to look at Dean and confirmed his theory that his brother was struggling to find a way down. Mentally, Sam laughed because the image made him think of a cat that climbed a tree too high, and couldn’t figure out how to get down.

 

Backing up slowly, Sam made his way to a nearby tree so that Dean could use it to get down, and as Dean grabbed the branch to climb off, Sam heard him demand that Sam to wait for him. Snorting—which came out of his giraffe body like a strange cough—Sam stalked forward towards the house. Dean meant well, but like hell Sam was going to wait and spend more time in this body unless he had to. It was up to Dean to catch up.

 

Lowering his head, widening his stance as he learned to do at the watering hole, Sam levelled up with the door and gave it a sharp knock with the stubs of horns on his head and felt utterly satisfied with the _crack bang_ as the olddoor gave in.

 

Inside, Naella and a man Sam didn't recognize scrambled to get off the couch and get a good look at the doorway. Wide-eyed, the man glanced at Naella before slowly backing out of the room. Naella, on the other hand, muttered, “Shit,” before Dean came skittering past Sam and into the house. The look that Dean shot Sam was the exact same look Dean always gave him when he told Sam that just because he was a giant, didn’t mean he could go barging into situations without backup. In this case, Sam thought he was just fine knocking doors down _as_ a giant.

 

Their scattering off the couch made it apparent that Sam and Dean had indeed caught them off guard (though Sam found that hard to believe with probably all of the town out looking for him) and Dean took advantage of the moment, rushing forward while growling something that sounded like a string of insults and the tag-on ‘witch’.

 

Seeing as Sam couldn’t very well get into the house to help, and his neck was achingly sore from this angle, Sam carefully pulled his head free, and shifted to lay down by the front door to look in that way. It wasn’t often he was at a hunt and unable to fight _at all_ (without being restrained), and as anxious as it made him feel to watch Dean go at it alone, it was a nice treat to sit out and watch him in action, to study his moves and features.

 

Something felt off about this situation, and Sam couldn’t place what it was. It wasn’t unusual for people to claim it wasn’t them, much like Naella was doing. It wasn’t unusual for Dean to be aggressive in his approach. Sam studied Naella while Dean kept a freshly drawn .45 trained on her as he knelt to open his bag to pull out what Sam knew to be Dean’s favourite silver blade. The woman watched, trembling, but Sam wasn’t buying something. Slowly tracing over her facial features, her fingers, her legs...Sam didn’t find the usual sort of nervous ticks most human-witches had. It almost made sense, because it wasn’t a human witch they were after anyway, was it? It was a demon with witchcraft skills. But then...where was the arrogant confidence that all demons seemed to have?

  
Dean’s eyes were locked on Naella’s as he stood, moving to stand behind her and only then putting the gun down to pull the hex bag from his pocket. His arms looped around her, blade set at her throat, and Sam swung his head sideways at the doorway to knock his horns against it before forcing his animal cough out. Sam wanted to be human again, yes, but Dean wasn’t going to kill someone to do it. The fear that had flashed across her face told Sam to believe his gut that she wasn’t a demon. A demon wouldn’t be afraid of a knife.

 

“Seriously Sam? She--“

 

Swinging his head at the door again to bang against it, Sam obviously made his point because Dean groaned but still moved to grab her wrist tightly (much to Naella’s obvious relief) after setting the hex bag on the ground immediately below. As Dean swiftly dragged the silver blade across her forearm, he muttered something about Sam’s priorities while watching the blood drip down onto the bag, staining it a dark red.

 

A pain twisted in Sam’s stomach, spiking out and down his limbs and he scrambled to toss his head side to side like he’d learned in order to get up and out of the doorway. Something else twisted inside him as he remembered how painful and disorienting it had been to change into such a large animal, and he figured it best not to have his head in the house Dean was standing inside. When he’d been stumbling against trees, he couldn’t do much damage. But as a giraffe by a small, old house, he was pretty sure the same stumbling would be destructive. Much more destructive.

 

Staggering to his feet, Sam collapsed almost immediately back onto his front knees as a pain shot through him again, but his ears twitched as a new sound hit them. Chanting. Dean didn’t need to chant to burn the bag...and it was far too close now to be Dean anyway. His cry of pain came out weird and gurgled, but when he saw a shadow standing just outside the house, Sam took all his energy to focus on that, instead of the pain. The shadows fell away the more he looked directly at them, and the male that had scrambled out of the room was standing, eyes fixed on Sam and one hand holding some sort of bone in his open, upturned palm. He was also clenching his other hand around something that was dripping blood onto the bone.

 

From the pain in his chest that seemed to be emanating from his heart, Sam could only imagine it was some animal’s heart being squeezed. For an instant, the pain subsided, enough to make Sam weak and want to lay down and rest, and enough for Sam to hear Dean’s string of curses from inside the house. When the pain returned a second later, it snapped Sam back to what was happening, and for once he was thankful he was in such a large body because when he forced himself to his quavering feet again, the man was only a step away. Sam was able to catch enough of his sweater in his teeth to hold him in place. The chanting stopped and Sam's pain subsided as the man struggled to free himself of Sam’s bite.

 

Slowly, Sam brought his body to the ground, settling beside the man and wrapping his neck in a large circle around him to rest his chin on his own shoulder. Sam had learned this was a comfortable way to sleep over the last few days, but it turned out to be an excellent temporary cage as well.

 

“Sammy, it didn’t work. She’s not the—“ Dean’s steps slowed as he left the house and laid his eyes on Sam, who simply looked at him with a knowing expression. “Jacob?!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Dean had left the house, he had been pissed off that he was back at square one trying to find the witch that had cursed Sam, since Naella’s blood did nothing to help the bag burn. To see Sam lying on the ground had set a panic into him, but when he saw that Sam was looking back at him (he swears that Sam was smiling) with his neck twisted around another squirming body, he relaxed. Then he recognized the man as the zookeeper he’d talked to earlier. “Jacob?!”

 

Jacob frowned slightly, then surprise crossed his face. “Mr. Berard...?”

 

Scoffing, Dean smirked as he strode forward, bloody silver blade in one hand, blood soaked hex bag in the other. “Sure.” He grabbed Jacob’s arm and maneuvered himself so that Sam could unwind his neck from around the captive. In one swipe, he sliced the man’s arm open in a deep line and let the blood pour into his hand that held the bag underneath. Jacob yelled out, clutching his arm and cradling it to his body, scrambling away from Dean as soon as he was released. Sam glared at Dean, but Dean chose to ignore Sam as he stepped away, flicked his lighter, and dropped the lighter and the bag onto the gravel driveway.

 

The bag instantly lit up in a bright green flame, smaller blue flames dancing in a small area immediately around the bag.

 

Jacob turned to run, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to care because at that moment, Sam began coughing, howling and kicking out as he rolled onto his side. His head was tossing around and kept banging against the side of the house. Concerned that it might be Sam’s human head eventually smashing against the house, he calculated his timing and slid onto the ground, grasping either side of Sam’s large giraffe head and held it as firmly as he could.

 

The next fifteen minutes were pure agony for Dean as he tried to talk soothingly to Sam, to encourage him to stay calm, assuring that he was here no matter what. His hands constantly petted Sam’s cheeks and mane, but when Dean saw the spots on the giraffe body fade into Sam’s skin color, he had to close his eyes. He didn’t know what it would do to him if he saw a giraffe shrink into the form of his brother.

 

Dean clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the animal sounds as they faded into Sam’s tortured groans and yells of pain. Eventually the sounds faded and Sam stopped thrashing and his head rested on Dean’s lap.

 

He had no idea how long he sat there with Sam’s upper body cradled against him and his leather jacket covering Sam’s stomach and waist.

 

\--------

 

“A double bacon cheeseburger with the works please.”

 

Dean was sitting across from Sam three towns over in a small mom and pop diner. The first thing they’d done was pack and blow out of town just in case anyone recognized Dean. Sam’s first request had been for food. But this wasn’t what Dean had expected _Sam_ to order.

 

Dean’s confusion and shock was written clearly across his face when Sam thanked the waitress (after adding a jumbo chili fry to the order) and turned back to Dean. “What?”

 

Dean stared blankly at his brother.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, _all_ I’ve eaten is salad for over a week.”

 

“I think I got the wrong Sam back...”

 

Sam’s lips curled into a smile and he balled a napkin up in his hands and tossed it at his brother’s face. “I bet I can finish before you for once.”

 

Dean couldn’t hold his blank stare anymore and cracked a smile. “Loser buys the pie.”

 

 

  
[~Art Master Post~](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/5059.html)   


 


	5. Seeing Spots - Acknowledgments

**Acknowledgments**

  
I'd like to thank [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_reversebang/profile)[**spn_reversebang**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_reversebang/)  for the wonderful idea of turning the traditional bang around to give the artists the chance to be completely creative and make something they'd like to see a fic created for. The mods have worked incredibly hard to make everything run as smoothly as possible and I think they did a great job. It was a large task to co-ordinate the artists and prompts and posting dates and I give them a huge round of applause for all the hours of work they surely put in!

This is the first challenge that I've ever participated in and it was a blast. I was honored to get my first choice and have the chance to work with [](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/profile)[**amindaya**](http://amindaya.livejournal.com/)  ! She was very easy going and we had very similar ideas as to what the basis we wanted the story to be on, and she let me run with it. I hope I did her justice!

Thanks to [](http://ebony-quill.livejournal.com/profile)[**ebony_quill**](http://ebony-quill.livejournal.com/)   for her beta and encouragement! <3

My lifesavers are the two women who got me through this. [](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/profile)[**bree_black**](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/)   and [lookturtles](http://dress-myself-up.livejournal.com/profile)  were amazing to me and they deserve all the respect I can muster. they were my cheerleaders, my support, the wall that I bounced ideas off, and my beta's. They saved my ass and I promise to do them justice in future challenges!

<3<3


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